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Look, ma! I’m linking to the New Republic!

TNR is sporting a wonderful, illuminating (for the rest of you non-collegiates) article on free speech zones that I highly recommend you check out. Every day it gets a little harder to take student protests seriously.

And with that, at 3:45 I’m off to a student protest. Will the conflict in Israel ever end? Now that NU is involved it will!

Song of the Day: everything by Tommy Keene

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Idiocy! It’s back – and in petition form!

The Wall Street Journal finally linked to the stupidest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen on the internet, this petition demanding that the upcoming adaptation of The Two Towers is disrespectful because of the title’s “obvious” WTC reference. I don’t know where to start with this idiot – suffice to say, even Washer was dumbstruck when he saw it.

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The Dying Dutchman

Pim Fortuyn is dead. I, alone among Americans, am shocked. When’s the last time you heard of an assassination in Holland? Andrew Sullivan will doubtlessly chime in once he hears the news; until then, I am going to be buried in midterms and chron and SPAC, so expect the sporadicism to persist.

Song of the Day: Midnight Oil, “Beds are Burning”

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Diary of a hermit

I’ve hit the reef, folks. On this loveliest of Saturdays I woke up, after many attempts, and hit the gym. Through sheer force of will I managed to do some reading, and I felt fine, until I asked what my workout partner was doing tonight (I was going to suggest dinner.)

“I think I’m going barhopping,” she said.

“Who with?”

“Stephanie, Josh, Michael, Farwig, Washer.”

And for some reason that did it. No one had told me about these plans – I was being rejected again. So I said that much, and it was pointed out to me that I’m still 4 months under the drinking age. That sentiment didn’t ring with me. I’ve seen way too many 18, 19, and 20 year old NU students hit the bars to think a 5’11, 180-pound guy with a reasonable ID would catch shit. So I pressed on, and got the other reason: why should they invite me when I always flip out and leave?

Bit of explanation. Recently, when I’ve been in public and felt the desire to go home, I have. Yesterday, at the movies, I got bored waiting for the credits to end (my peers wanted to see something afterward) and suggested going to get coffee. No one wanted to – they had the dorm screening room rented out in 15 minutes, and they were going to watch Twin Peaks. So I left and got coffee. Reason enough to ostracize me, I guess.

Ammendum: Those same peers ended up sitting outside my door bullshitting for almost an hour. So much for Twin Peaks.

These thoughts percolated as I grimaced and walked home, faster and faster. Washer IMed me and I told him I had a knife, which was true. He came up to stop me after I’d had a little fun with it, and a while later she came on his behest.

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion,” I was told. “You’re being a fucking drama queen.” And, with words I can’t remember the exact dimensions of, I was told that I couldn’t be treated with kid gloves forever.

So I sit here as my friends are hitting the bars, having eaten nothing but a diet shake, a cookie, and a few sugary candies, nursing a bottle of Turning Leaft Merlot 2000, pissed and destroyed. I can’t deal with people anymore. I can’t take one more interpersonal rejection. I’m … well, frankly, I’m scared to find out whether I can last the quarter.